


Looping

by 9thdoor



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, M/M, Time Loop, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9thdoor/pseuds/9thdoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If given the chance, most people want to repeat one moment. Whether to change the outcome, relive the memory or some other stupid reason. </p><p>Jean wanted none of that, wanted to get over anything and everything concerning Marco Bodt. But fate, per usual, didn't seem to give two shits about what he wanted.</p><p>Really, he should’ve known better than to hope this time would be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looping

If it had been anyone else, Jean would laugh at the predicament. But this was Marco, Marco who seemed too kind to die, and yet there was nothing to be done about his death.

Facing the corpse there, as it was propped up in the destroyed streets hurt. It was a stupid thing to say, and he knew how it sounded, so childish, but it was true, so true.

He’d done this so many times now, faced Marco’s dead body over and over, yet he still could quite believe it. _Again_ , he thought dismally, shoulders shaking before he realized that he’d started to cry, _I’m going to have to try this again._

 

To be completely fair, Jean had absolutely no idea how this whole thing worked. All he remembered was that one moment he was looking at the body on the street, telling the woman Marco’s name and division, but the next he was alone again, waking in the cold barracks.

The first time he’d ended up confusing a fuck ton of people, with Eren calling him a raving lunatic and Armin frowning disapprovingly, almost pityingly at him.

“What the hell Jean? Marco’s right in the bunk above yours, like usual. What kind of asshole goes around claiming his friend’s dead, seriously?” But it was real, he’d known it, right? There was no way all of that—the rain, the blood, the fight—was a nightmare, right?

Jean was a moment away from deciding to punch that disgusted look right off of Eren Jaeger’s face when the man of the hour himself showed up, frowning slightly before teasingly saying, “Do you really dislike me that much Jean?” The man addressed had his mouth open, blinking as he practically stared at Marco.

“Jean?” the other prompted, playful expression fading into a more concerned look as he made his way over to stand next to his best friend in the group, “You okay?”

No. No he didn’t understand, this wasn’t supposed to be happening, was it? Marco was dead for fuck’s sake, he’d seen him half-gone, and it had nearly broken him, now this? It didn’t seem fair at all. But like most things, Jean put up with it, no matter how completely perplexing Marco’s currently alive status was.

So Jean thought that his death must’ve just been a nightmare, or a trick of his sight. Maybe the corpse he’d seen didn’t have freckles after all, or had a slightly different hairstyle that happened to droop in his face like Marco’s undercut. Yeah, he was sure that was the case. Or at least he was until the commanders assembled them in the quad to inform them that the wall had been breached. That the titans were coming, and that the advance squad had already been wiped out.

So he was going to have to do this—go to battle, fight titans, run away again?

Some things about this world really weren’t fair.

\----------

Unfair was the most complete understatement he could’ve thought of.

A world of repeating the same day over and over was a nightmare, plain and simple.

He knew that saying something like that was expected, but having to hear the same tragic news over and over wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if he could’ve prevented the events that always seemed to go along with it.

No matter what changed, no matter how much he tried to procrastinate their leaving the first meeting and made sure that his gear was fixed, one detail never seemed to change.

Whether it was at the hands of a ravenous titan or merely due to a more preventable flaw in the gear, Marco always ended up dead.

Jean had done everything in his power, every time, to get the poor man out of there. At least, absolutely everything without spilling this awful secret. It wasn’t one of those secrets about crushing on someone that people had when they were little, it was a ‘oh shit did I mention I’ve relived this day and seen my best friend die hundreds of times’ kinds of secrets.

And Jean swears that not telling anyone makes him wish he could just end up dead already, alongside Marco. The sad part was that he’d tried, he’d made a sincere effort, but only once. Jean never attempted it again for the sole reason that the boy he’d tried to save in the first place was the one taking charge of his life now, keeping him from being one of the bodies recorded as found on the streets.

That was the final straw, and he knew that there was no way he’d let Marco’s life slip through his fingers, and absolutely no possibility of him dying before he got to rescue him. At least, that was what he repeated to himself every morning that he woke up again, and every day that he tried to make something different.

Once, he’d been certain he’d made all the right calls, done everything as he’d thought out, even followed a plan he’d spent time thinking about when the situation was explained to the trainees over and over—that time, he’d been really close. Jean had been returning down the streets, towards the wall, ready to climb, when he heard a scream and turned, seeing what he’d never been able to catch for many of these loops.

The sight of Marco reaching, pleading, panicking and—disappearing.

\----------

Jean thinks this must be what it feels like to go insane. To break down, really. He doesn’t know what to do, how to feel, other than to be so, so angry.

This didn’t make sense, fuck, nothing made sense. He’d done it all right, he’d followed every inconspicuous course of action he could think of to just get Marco safe. But still, still, over and over again, everything he tried failed.

If he convinces Marco that they should stay up on the wall, or even just return early, he’s called off by Pixis to join another emergency squad, or is lost on their final stretch to safety up above.

If Jean orders Marco to go off with Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt rather than with he and Connie, they come back with somber faces, and he’s dead again.

Once, he even confided in Armin, telling him that he knew Marco was going to die. The look the blond had given him was one of terrified, wide-eyed panic that told Jean that even with all these strategies, Armin wouldn’t be able to help him.

The younger began to fret more than Jean had done, since he used rationality to truly show how drastic the entire situation was. It came close to making Jean wish he was dead himself. Well, brought him close to wishing that again.

The other’s voice shook, and his body quivered too as he tried to explain why exactly Jean could never do what he wanted.

“You–you can’t save him Jean.” The blond had been frantically trying to explained and continued to do so. “It’s not possible—if you’ve tried as many times as you’ve said then it really can’t be done.” And Armin was always right, wasn’t he?

But now, Jean knew he had to be wrong, there was no way that living this day over and over was turning out to be a completely hopeless effort. The terrified boy in front of him continued, staring at Jean’s stricken expression with one of his own.

“Saving Marco has never been possible.”

\----------

That time around, in his determination to prove Armin wrong, Jean was hasty, and made mistakes. And not just small, simple mistakes that delayed his chances at rescuing the boy fated to die, but ones that dragged others along with Marco.

That time, he tried to get Marco out to a different part of the operation again, explaining to their stand-in commander why they needed to be moved. Naturally, the rest of his usual squad was sent with him; Connie, Sasha, Armin, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie and of course, Marco. Sometime during the operation he lost track of Armin and figured that he must’ve gone off towards Eren. He always seemed to do that, Jean remembered, but didn’t have the focus to wonder why.

Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt were off elsewhere too, he didn’t care, honestly. Had the military done a complete verification of squad leaders’ mental stability then, Jean highly doubted that he’d come close to passing. His mind was frantic with thoughts of Marco, thoughts of finding a way around whatever fate had decided on. He didn’t have enough time to think of and keep track of the rest of his squad. That is, not until it was too late for them as well.

Somehow, through all these versions of the battle, he ends up being the one his squad originally puts their lives on the line for. Whether it be running and having his equipment malfunction—which had happened more times than anything else—or something as mundane as being on his way up the wall when a titan swung at him and the others ducked in to protect him again.

That was what friends did, right? They saved each other no matter the cost, right?

It was different with Marco, Jean knew, and had a feeling that sometimes everyone else did as well. There was something so protectable, so essential about the other than Jean couldn’t imagine a world without Marco’s smiling and freckled face to greet him the next day, no matter how awful the fate of humanity seemed as a whole. That feeling had only increased as he lived through weeks, no, years of waking up to Marco over and over.

No, this time, with most of the squad gone, it was just he, Connie, Sasha, and the ever enigmatic Marco. And Jean was running from them, as he’d done a number of times that he thought to be in the hundreds. Sliding his hands to the belts near his midsection and undoing them mid-sprint, he rounded the corner where the body should be and—It wasn’t there. Shit.

Occasionally, he had the naivety to think that he was getting a hang of this repetition thing, but then there were times like this when minute details that he’d come to rely on changed. The remains that were supposed to be at the end of this road was one of those things, and now the alley truly was looking to be a dead end.

He wouldn’t have minded if it was just his life that would be ending, but just then the inevitable happened, and Connie soared in, right across the titan’s line of view, Sasha mimicking the motion from the opposite side, making the giant confused on which way to turn first. She giggled, yelling something to Connie that made the other grin as they landed on the opposing rooftops, letting the other remaining member of their squad to finish the job.

Jean took it back; even if it was all three of them, he wouldn’t have minded it all ending right there. It was awful, and he knew it. Of course the thought plagued him with guilt and he’d never admit it to another living soul, except for Marco, maybe Marco. But was he really alive at all? He wasn’t sure of that one anymore.

The man of the hour arrived then, digging one hook of his 3D Maneuver Gear into the back of the titan’s neck, lighting for a moment there on its spine. That was a huge risk and they all knew it, but Marco took the chance anyways. Jean wanted to scream out against his idiocy, warn him to get the fuck out of harm’s way before it was too late again. The titan did that for him, swatting brutishly and hitting his mark with what could only be luck, swinging Marco wildly off-course and slamming his back into one of the brick buildings lining this street.

Immediately, the previous amusement at their double-team was gone from his two remaining comrades’ eyes. Like Jean, they were slipping closer to panic, while all he could do was run to the side towards Marco’s limp body and pray for something along the lines of a miracle.

As if he believed in a god that would help him after all this.

Sliding to the ground next to him, the wide-open nature of his best friend’s eyes and the stillness of his chest was enough to tell him it was too late. Jean turned quickly, needing to know that at least the two others would make it. Their goofing around during training had paid off, apparently, since it was rare for Jean to actually witness their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t so lucky.

By the time he turned, Connie was already gone, and there was a fresh smear of red on the titan’s mouth. If his heart hadn’t been hammering then, it was now. Sasha was screaming, and there were tears on her face—there must’ve been, even if he couldn’t see them from here.

Guilt plaguing him further, he slouched more deeply into his kneeling position, bowing his head. Jean was a coward. He’d used to think that even if he wasn’t strong, even if he wasn’t the great leader they all wanted him to be, he wouldn’t sink so low as to look away and do nothing as another one of his friends died.

But he did. As Sasha’s screams echoed loudly down the street, he cowered there, huddling over Marco’s unmoving body and feeling hot tears stream down his cheeks. He was a disgrace to the military, to anyone, to Marco especially. Cowering here felt awful, but he couldn’t think of a better thing to do.

Again, this time, there was nothing he could do.

He’s regretting this more than he ever thought he would.

\----------

Every single time, every round through, he failed. Over and over he failed and failed, Again and again his friends died, and Marco died, though the latter didn’t fit properly into the first category to him, not really.

This day, he swore he wouldn’t let it happen. This day would be different.

Jean had decided to give up everything this time around. He’d sacrifice it all this time, all that they’d spent years learning for Marco. And no matter how many other people there were who mattered to him, Jean couldn’t bring himself to care about anything right then other than Marco.

Screw the corps, screw the military police, screw everything over. They’d run, they’d abandon their past lives, adopt new names and blend in with the civilians. Sure, it would make them fugitives, put them on the wanted list for the rest of their lives. But really, he was sure the military had much more important things to do than look for a pair of deserters.

So that morning, when he met the others in the dining hall, his eyes dim and expression solemn, quiet for now. Breakfast went by uneventfully, eating the food that didn’t have a taste to him now. It seemed silly that something as simple as food held meaning, but it had truly shown how much living the same day can dull it all. Experiences were no longer crisp, flavors were lackluster, and conversations had been set on repeat.

The endless frustration he had with his inability to save Marco despite the utter and almost flawless knowledge of what would happen plagued him almost every day. Now, however, he could see nothing more to do.

Of course, there were very slight variations between the loops. The most notable one today was the fact that sometimes Marco took a last minute shower before breakfast, and other times he showed up in the mess hall.

Today was one of the times that Marco came late, only arriving with the group once they left the hall and went outside, were passing through an alleyway to get to the courtyard where they were receiving special directions. Orders, Jean knew, that would inevitably end up sending Marco to his death.

So when his best friend nudged his side with a grin and jokingly said that Shadis was going to order them to sweep the streets of Trost, Jean stiffened, grabbing the other’s arm tightly and pulling him to the side, off towards an alleyway.

“Jean?” Marco asked, concern evident in his voice as he allowed himself to be tugged, only offering resistance and easily stopping in his tracks when the other didn’t respond. Even if Jean’s will was stronger at this point, Marco was taller and had always been better at hand-to-hand combat.

“Jean?” he said again, more cautiously, as his best friend was still keeping a harsh grip on his arm, “Are you alright? You’re acting a little weird—“

“Please! We have to run now!” He sounded like a lunatic and he knew it. But still. It didn’t matter. He had to save him. “We have to get out of here Marco, they’re going to—if we don’t you’ll end up...“ Jean was shaking, on the edge of tears again, and grasped Marco’s hand with both of his now.

“Jean,” Marco repeated again, more gently, stopping trying to pull out of his friend’s grip now. “If you’re referring to the mission we’re giving us, I’ll be fine. I doubt it’s anything big, probably just regulating a market or something. We’ll be fine—“

“We won’t!” he insisted, voice loud enough to draw attention from the others who were still walking towards the courtyard. “It’s not an easy mission, the titans, they’re going to break the wall again, you’re not safe Marco! Fuck, we have to run! It’s going to be too late!”

Expression softening, Marco relaxed his hand in both of Jean’s. “Even if something like that were to happen Jean, I know you’ll be able to lead us well. Connie, Sasha and I, everyone else too.”

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t think that. Marco was wrong. Jean couldn’t do anything to lead them well. He was just a coward, he was worth nothing to them. Jean’s eyes were wide and he was silent, staring at the cobblestone lined ground.

“I know you can hear me Jean, and trust me, please. I mean what I’m saying! I believe that you can lead us, and I know you wouldn’t let me die, right?”

Jean slipped to his knees, shoulders shaking as he felt his resolve and chances vanishing.

“Jean?”

“Please,” his voice came out in almost a choke, hands clammy around Marco’s, “We have to get out of here.”

He was falling, and failing, again, he’d failed Marco again.

“Please, we have to run Marco. We have to go.”

He’d lost it, and he must’ve looked insane to his best friend, this person who he valued so highly. Enough to sacrifice all of it. He had lost it, he realized now, the moment he woke up again on this day for the first time. And he hated it.

“Please...”

Jean has been doing this for so long, and he is so, so tired.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I finished something, though it's a bit more angst than is usually my forte. Still, I hope you enjoyed it?  
> Inspired by the time loop AU drawn here: http://barleytea.tumblr.com/post/62308798223


End file.
